


Slipping

by uena



Series: The Road to Hell (is Paved With Good Intentions) [11]
Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Morning After, Romance, Self-Denial, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedikiah doesn't like waking up with other people. He's making an exception for John, although he'll be damned if asked to explain why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hope_calaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/gifts).



When the first tentative rays of sunlight creep into the bedroom, Jedikiah has been awake for about an hour. An hour he has spent contemplating the shadowed ceiling above him, ignoring the soft breaths ghosting over his right shoulder.

The bed is warmer than usual. Which isn’t at all surprising, considering the extra body it contains, and Jedikiah has shoved the blanket off his chest to prevent overheating. He really doesn’t like cuddling. At all.

But still he tolerates John’s prone form right next to him, endures the abuse of his shoulder as substitute for a pillow. He hasn’t even removed the arm draped over his abdomen.

And he can’t quite figure out why.

What happened between them last night was satisfying, no doubt. John’s getting good at giving head. But a good blowjob has never before stopped Jedikiah from kicking a partner out of bed, nor has it stopped him from leaving if the bed in question wasn’t his own. Now, he can’t really kick John out when he was the one who invited him over in the first place, but he could have made sure that John stays on his side of the bed, at least.

One gentle shove would have been sufficient, he’s sure of that.

But he didn’t shove. He didn’t even nudge.

Instead he allowed John to cuddle up to him, allowed him to invade his space, breathe his air, _over share_ his heat.

Now would probably be the perfect opportunity to lay down some ground rules. If he gets up now, takes a shower, and dresses before John even wakes, that would set the perfect precedent.

John would never make a fuss if Jedikiah did that. He’d understand, draw his own conclusions, and quietly adjust. It’s what he always does, after all.

Jedikiah has read that boy’s file top to bottom, even written some of the entries himself. He knows that John went into the foster system when he was about three, that no father was listed on his birth certificate, that his mother was a gentle, caring women John has no conscious memory of.

Jedikiah has read what the shrinks have to say about John, that his protective instincts overpower his self-preservation instincts in times of crisis – stating that as the number one reason why he’s useless in a one-on-one fight, his training only kicking in when he’s fighting for someone else.

They trained him for the last six years, and yes, he’s fit, he knows how to move, what to do when. Except he doesn’t. The last six entries in his medical file could have been avoided if John had but tapped into his full potential, used all his skills, and just _gone_ for his opponent. Instead, he hesitated, each and every time, did not kick or punch as hard as he could, frustrated his trainer to the point where she almost broke the boy’s wrist in anger.

He becomes clumsy when fighting someone he cares about, and the fact of the matter is that John cares about everyone.

John chooses this moment to sigh into Jedikiah’s shoulder, and it forces Jedikiah’s attention away from the ceiling and the contemplation of what makes John tick.

John hasn’t woken up, not yet, merely shifted a bit closer to Jedikiah and tilted his head upwards, as if he wants to show him the little smile dancing around his mouth.

The sun has reached the bed by now, turns a few strands of John’s hair to gold, and Jedikiah closes his eyes against the visual onslaught. He’s always been aware that John’s a good-looking kid – that his facial features can be considered to be generally pleasing, and his physique certainly leaves nothing to complain about – but John’s not a kid anymore.

He’s showing the first traces of the man he’s going to be, and Jedikiah would be lying if he said he doesn’t like what he sees. And that’s kind of the problem right there.

He doesn’t get attached, not in his private life, and sure as hell not in his professional one. It’s complicated, and it’s messy, and he’s never been willing to put up with another person’s demands, has never compromised his own interests for anybody else.

Granted, his interest in sleeping alone and well-tempered is not his most important one, but still. Providing physical comfort for John so he doesn’t compromise the program is one thing, _cuddling_ something else entirely.

And some of the things he said last night to John were downright _dumb_. Too soft, too caring, not at all appropriate. Why the fuck did he tell him not to think of him as a nice man? Who in their right mind does that?

He hears John yawn and feels him twitch, and he knows from prior experience that he’s awake now, even if he’ll need a few more minutes to be fully up to speed.

“Morning,” he says, and opens his eyes to find John now fully bathed in light, golden and far too bright in the morning sun. It annoys him, this picture-perfect moment, and he feels his eyebrows draw together of their own volition, lending each other support.

Then John opens his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, at first, stares up at Jedikiah in a mixture of awe and surprise, with a bit of fear in there as well, as if he can’t quite remember what happened last night.

After a few heartbeats his expression turns entirely soft, open, and so vulnerable Jedikiah wants to smack some sense into him.

“Morning,” John mumbles, voice rough and sleepy, lifts a hand to rub at his eyes, scrunches his whole face up.

Jedikiah fights with himself, quite ruthlessly, but in the end he loses. “Waffles?” he asks.

John’s eyes are very blue.


End file.
